Best Titillated Poems
Summer’s warmth breezed upon the verdant hills
Quivering golden twilight’s zesty marigold appeal
Scintillating rustling leaves in resplendent prairies
While eventide’s glaring aura emulated your zeal
When leisurely you strolled on tranquil sandy beach
As sun’s amber beams glimmered your footprints.
Delighted by your visit, thrilled in your company,
Reveling your mystique I unfolded your dreams,
Enchanted I revered the pulse of your heartbeats
When every hug blushed the face of your fantasy
As slowly you revealed to me what true love means
Sprinkling hints boldly in flirtatious fervid kisses.
Virgin aspirations soon titillated beats of romance
Inducing seduction in every touch, every glance,
Embracing moonlit desires, gazing twinkling stars
Cuddling dreamy nights through melodies of dawns
As lyrics of sensual reveries wrote our love story
Extolling virtuous yearnings in blazing hearts’ music.
I remember you left amidst autumn’s ruby winds
As ocher themes dazzled, whirling russet leaves;
We treasured those longings, cherishing love sublime,
But the allure of its sensuous vows faded over time
When we grew apart trading ambivalent feelings
And promises, once idyllic, altered their meaning…
Yet, passions still ignite, doting withered memories.
July 6, 2020
Placed 2nd: One that got away poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Autumn Oak Trees
Titillated by nature’s sweet caress,
leaf by leaf oak trees undress.
11-19-2014
For some reason, I feel especially vindicated
Learning recently that I won’t be syndicated,
I know many of my dear family are titillated
Since they are of my readers most dedicated.
In my writings, over the years, I’ve indicated
That with superb honors I’ve been inundated,
Still, I’ve made every effort to be insulated,
Although lately I’ve been rather stimulated
And, for the most part, yes, entirely pixilated;
That is, when I am not totally inebriated!
written December 20, 2021
“hope floats from purple petals to ebony buds”
- Silent One
In darkness, I dreamt in color,
with eyelids fluttering like butterflies.
I’d thought I’d see sunlight,
before I fell into a trance, but hope
tickled the air and the sandman was there,
not to torture but to divine adventure.
“Purple petals and ebony buds,” like pollen
sticks to the fluttering wings of butterflies.
In cruising altitude, felicity is decked out.
The garden site’s lit up with fairy lights.
Trellis rose blooms, suave in velvet,
like a smartly dressed groom in a new tuxedo.
I float, in my restful state, as a bright butterfly,
better than ever, testing my titillated wings.
In darkness, I dreamt in color.
In sunlight, I awaken to the tease
of a truant dream, a rose plucked
and tenderly tickles my cheek and neck;
silent is the touch of a purple leafwing.
Standing in the wings, on the periphery
of her cultivated world, inhibited only by
station and space, my head slowly spins
into her orbit, my eye lids twitter nervously,
my titillated ears vibrate, my hands tremble,
inner being disassembles, kneeling in deep
contrition, my flattering pose, covered by
plebeian skin, without merit or standing,
not in her purview, goes unnoticed.
Straining to capture a meaningful memento
of her regal essence, if but a quick glance,
token gesture, two or three words spoken
in jest, but, alas, no comely features with
which to attract even a passing stare.
Shriveling in her presence, my net value
laid bare. On my crown, a matted toupee,
a disheveled mound of bristled fibers.
No sterling jewelry to sparkle in her
turquoise eyes. On my wrist, a cheap
sports watch with a plastic band. My
colloquial speech contains no majestic
refrain, her delicate drums to tap, and
no rhythmic cadence, her cochlear bands
to serenade. En-wrapping my taut
form, the trappings of a commoner.
No velvet suit or silk cuffs, her refined
fingers to address; no cashmere
slacks, only a stiff pair of unpleated
Dockers to brush up against her
glimmering, polished legs. But, at
my lowly base, a pair of Dolce &
Gabanna wingtips, exuding a waxy
shine, casting an enthralling glare,
a magical spell with which to cloud
her discerning eyes, and to dissuade
her genteel mind. With one lengthy
stride, I introduce my intentions. Her
condescending eyes now peel away
my pretentious threads, and, with an
outstretched hand, beckons me to
her side, presses me against her
throbbing bosom. The lurid dance
begins, ending only after the darkness
filters the floss of my wingtips from
her dilated eyes.
In my eighteenth season, strangers used brotherhood as decorative
ribbons to gift me a feel and a truth that have stayed my life long. At a nature adorned ranch flowed a celebratory wedding reception upon soft
green field carpets so lush that they matched the gentle generosity of
my host's acceptance. I was a welcomed wanderer, a presence made
to feel I belonged and was valued. Old, wizen oak and willow trees
provided a poetic, scenic border for the velvet ground and shaded the
serene river on the other side of their mighty and graceful tree limbs.
It was Fall, of course it was Fall, the season of lusciousness and breezes
that render promising tickles upon titillated flesh. As music flowed, love
in sincere smiles became hand-to-hand holding, loose swaying arms, and uninhibited kicks from dancing legs all moving carefree bodies in a spontaneous, jubilant circle of dance. In a flash-know, I felt harmonious sensations empower all to unite in the spiritual perfection from which
we had come and would, in time, return as brothers and sisters gone home.
sun rays pulse pleasure
when perfect harmony sounds ~
leggy spirits kick
Vibrating elations brightened the sun’s own light and dissolved all human egos’ need-feel to be acknowledged as right. I knew none of the faces, yet I knew them all, just as they knew me because a mutual dance
feel took us all inside core truth; all were one in the same from the same
one of perfect love. Such knowing elated my dance with soul-intoxication. The air continued piping in rock’s most poignant lyrics sung by genuine, emotive voices that grabbed us all while drums beat as one with our
hearts until our pulses ignited, and guitars glided on soared, radiating
nirvana highs through our inside-otherness. These sensations all led me
to know what I still know, dancing that unexpected afternoon was more important in establishing my life’s philosophical purpose than many of the priorities I had been taught were paramount to living a successful life.
songs swirl inner depths
lifting souls in all who dance ~
nirvana buzzes
A Jim-Jam Mickey-Mouse Poem
I think that you might never see
A poem as weird as this might be
For I’ll use luscious words
That otherwise might sound absurd
This poem may turn out silly-sally
Or even a bit dillydally
In hindsight this whole kit and caboodle
May come across as dipsy-doodle
I’ll find a rhyme for titillated
That’s quintessentially outdated
I might include a foxy lady
But not written like my friend Slim Shady
So there won’t be some randy blowhard
Gender-bender sleaze-ball retard
No hooligan with gizmo manikin
No easy rider glissade shenanigan
No penny pincher prude nitpicker
And of course no cowboy old ****-kicker
And I would be recalcitrant
If I were to use this poem to rant
Though I know at times I vacillate
I shan’t lambaste this tete-a-tete
I haven’t worked in balderdash
Bloke or codger or mish-mash
No Tallulah, no Colleen
No rambunctious Charlie Sheen
And there’s no dubious diddlysquat
But that’s abso-bloody–lutely all I’ve got
Mdailey 3/30/12
Straight rows of soft chairs, larval eyes stare blank
Absorbed by glowing colors on the wall
Their jaws slack, fetid whiff, unwashed and dank
Arrested minds the blue screen does enthrall
Their horticulture, growing docile strains
Indulge the twisted whims our lords conceive
The whores to culture, placid in their chains
Reclining prostrate, ready to believe
Our nation’s spirit sinking to expire
Omniscient demigods behind the screen
Transmuting our light to synthetic ire
Red, white, and blue bows to red, blue and green
Unconscious fulcrum, force you can’t deny
Black keys in gray hands of the puppet priest
Subliminal, no chance to wonder why
Clandestine reins pulled taut, they lead the beast
Imbue the symbol with gilt qualities
Admire how they conspire, our life rewired
Such dazzling tricks to blind the polity
In breaded, cheap amusements, we are mired
Our brave new virtual reality
With hidden craft, untruth is overlayed
Eclipsed sun darkens to totality
Beneath benighted noon we walk as day
Predicted, instinct’s base reaction known
To tidal waves of violence and sex
Minds titillated by distraction’s bone
From our Media-Government Complex
Our internecine hatreds stoked, inflamed
Creating and enhancing the divide
True culprits are protected, victims blamed
Incessant war, the great rift yawning wide
Unseemly freedoms have been made taboo
Renouncing power, most don’t even grieve
Relieved to give up guns and money too
Behind red tape and laws lurk skulking thieves
Resounding echoes, our once great New World
Through wavelengths, diodes, context redefined
Cold software guiding social plots unfurled
Far colder people fine-tune the hive mind
Inheritors of might presume the role
Unburdened by the ballast of remorse
Their dark ascent to power and control
Soul-searing wind as you climb to the source
Some zealots hold that this is Satan’s world
Each object of desire imbued with blight
Much clearer when the plan becomes unfurled
So glaring it becomes they have the right
This morbid monolith, our freedom’s bane
Temptation steals your breath, you’d best beware
Choose reason in a world that’s gone insane
Reclaim your only soul and say a prayer
© Thomas W. Quigley
7/17/16
Mostly Iambic Pentameter
He was turbulent, fearful, and a dipsomaniac. He was dead to the target, undeniable emulation of his father. So I've been told.
Equated with many of his uneducated and socially stigmatized peers, starting at an early age he worked menial jobs until he married and asserted himself to a position on a cargo ship as a Merchant Seaman. So I've been told.
He traveled the world and had many long tales to share. Tales when spread made him a hero of many causes, and these inflated tales rein the peninsula and many compared him with John Henry and Jack Johnson. So I've been told.
He was a tall sepia man with a handsome face that was divinely chiseled to the image of Hermes. So I've been told.
He was a courageous bull that suffered his demise at the hands of his enemy. So I've been told.
He was a vigorous bear with broad shoulders that expanded forever like the Baeke plateau and was a comforting pillow for my weary head.
His legs when stretched out from a sitting position was a nuisance, a tripping device for a young child whose vision was aimed high when walking by.
He smelled of stale tobacco and Old Spice.
His tatami cheeks pricked fingers to the touch with delightful pain.
His long fingers with soil underneath its horny protective covering could move swiftly over finger plates of a saxophone or skillfully up and down the fretted neck of a guitar if he, so willed. Yet he titillated my ribs, under my arms and the soles of my feet.
His voice vociferated like thunder at his adversaries and changed to an astonishing softer degree when he called my name. This I know and so you are now being told.
copyright Labyrinth of Life
With my eyes wide open and my words spoken out loud, I seek Your feel here,
on this night, atop this hill lush with soft green fields as lit by the stars Your galaxy
yields. On earth’s floor, upon smooth grass, I lay me down, Father, and pray You play
Your gospel bright purity, Your angelic chords of Father-love-security, and yes, please,
Your instrumentals that softly comfort while peacefully rocking me. It is the lack of
human-spun activities and nuisance noises that allow me the poise to absorb You here.
Your awesome choir’s euphony-brim brushes musical tingles that mingle with my soul
and fresh renew it. From your heavens, luminous sound waves flow that surround to
inform and confirm the numinous ways You love me. My Dear Father, hearing my pleas,
will You give my music needs over to Your night that they might waltz arm in arm with
Your lullaby to then dance on high as twilight rapture music heals and soothes my cry
with divinities repertoire?
heaven composed tunes
play angelic instruments ~
natural talent
Your twirly wind chimes deep within me as its hymn flirts upon my titillated skin.
Your symphony of vague promise comes as wave notes again and again. As a
concerto I cannot harness, shadows volley tempo with Your moon, clouds float an
accompanying tune and instruments in Your orchestra build a crescendo of exciting
energy wherein my burdens float upon wonderous angels who hold them inside
their primal notes. Could I, Father, but lay here amidst Your comforting music, safe
from bruise and pain, I would gladly surrender all I am to be a hold note in the gold
sky of Your spirit-scored refrain.
galaxy music plays
pure soul comforting music ~
heaven rocks a jam
Just around the bend
Hopes to blithely blend
Libidos vigorously ascend
Seeking Lover's dividend
Below, town lights the solemnity doth amend
Above, translucent stars romance suspend
Precipice, a lofty adventure doth portend
Surrounding shadows with suspense contend
Steamy moonbeams brew a spicy cumin
Stardust cloaks with a glittering resin
Orion's piercing arrows passion lend
Starry-eyed lovers lap lust like gin
Floodlights dim in lover's cozy den
With a tender kiss carnal libations begin
Twining tendrils preen like a doting hen
Then in drunken revelry titillated parts spin
Charming potions stream from lamp of Aladdin
Enlightened hearts glow like a sparkling sequin
Tuned limbs perform their amorous requiem
Enjoined bodies in fatuous chorus sing carpe diem
"Just take this chalk," (so went his talk,
to servants sent before):
"And do not balk. When you uncork
good liquor, mark the door."
This way, the churchman planned to pass,
when pausing for a rest,
fun nights in vino veritas,
partaking of the best.
"So, sup the wine, and if it's fine,
write on the lintel (lest
I miss the sign and fail to dine
there) 'Vinum Bonum Est!'"
Off went the servant at a trot.
Would we were in his shoes!
To earn our pay, we play the sot,
by "testing" all the booze!
From bar to bar, he wanders far,
obeying that behest:
but "Vinum Bonum" starts to jar:
He shortens it to "Est"!
He sips this wine, he guzzles that,
and if he is impressed,
he makes a holy concordat,
and marks the doorway, "Est!"
Down through the Alps the servant wends,
to tread Italian soil:
so many blends, to greet as friends!
Unto his task, stays loyal.
Both white and red, their bottles bled,
are flowing like the Arno:
by destiny, the servant's led
to Montepulciano!
Volcanic slopes (some are the Pope's!)
make wine that's heaven-blessed:
and, titillated as he topes,
he chalks up, "Est! Est! Est!"
Some days elapse -- a week, perhaps.
Beneath the tavern's eaves,
round Bishop wraps the sweetest of traps --
he arrives, but never leaves!
The wine is fine -- almost divine --
Soft, like an angel's breath;
To toe the line, he's disinclined --
and drinks himself to death!
And though this tale's beyond the pale,
a moral you may wrest --
each holy grail's adorned with nails --
go slow with Est! Est! Est!
Sometimes sun rays feel deliciously nutritious
in delightful ways upon my then titillated skin.
Sometimes early dawn’s ideal golden streaks
smolder atop the ocean in ways that awe me.
At those times, I flounder trying to unscramble
my power to articulate all my feelings convey.
When ocean waves cascade then fade crashes
with a blustering, continuing bombast-style,
it seems a brag of guile lacking any inhibition.
Sometimes my emotions sense a divine providence
of mysterious insist in a glorious, intricate sea.
Sometimes I feel an existing cryptic, dolorous and
lecherous content equally miraculous in sea depths.
At all these times I feel with breezed emotional might
that I am truly focused as a neophyte of life.
She thrilled my senses
and titillated my heart
like a creature of nature.
Always moving, never still,
her ethereal presence
was surreptitious,
clever and lithe.
The penumbra,
backlighting
a gossamer forest,
expertly woven
and imbricated
labyrinthine,
a vestigial empire
of silken threads.
A talisman was needed
but could not be found,
to expose the calculations
and the furtive plot.
When I fell in,
I was weightless,
defenseless,
an epiphany
of seduction.
The arachnoid
and nemesis
slowly devoured me.
There was a woman from Beeman
Who enraptured all the seamen
With a gentle touch of her hand
She titillated their laughing gland
Making them feel like freemen